He made the mistake of asking “Did you have a nice walk”? when I went in to wake him. I let rip, moaning about my numb toes, freezing fingers and stiff legs. He listened patiently as he always does. And then I felt terrible. What is my discomfort – which after all is self-inflicted (I choose to walk at that time) and of short duration? And the moon was a glorious sight, as were the occasional lit tree and the garland of lights strewn across the front of a house on South Road. There is still much to cheer even in minus 4 temperatures.
Oh, God I hope that poor man isn’t still sleeping in the shelter on the Prom.
